


Cottage keys

by penny_archer



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: But like kinda low key, Domestic Fluff, Feelings, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, South Downs, cottage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 22:22:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20478410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penny_archer/pseuds/penny_archer
Summary: As their relationship evolves post-apocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale decide to u-haul like a good lesbian couple. Also, I haven’t been able to get the South Downs cottage thing out of my head since I heard it.





	Cottage keys

_Sunday, St. James’s Park, two weeks after the end of the world_

“What do you want to do today, angel?”

Aziraphale looked up from his book at Crowley, who was lounging beside him on the grass, propped back on his elbows and staring absently at the pond in front of them. He thought for a moment. “We could go to the Tate Modern, we haven’t been there yet,” he volunteered.

The demon pulled an exaggerated face. “Angel, you’ve been dragging me around museums and galleries and ar-bor-et-ums for days. Let’s do something _exciting_. Let’s steal a double decker and go for a joyride. We’ll take it back, obviously,” he added with an eye roll after catching Aziraphale’s expression.

“I think museums are exciting,” Aziraphale huffed quietly. They had been together nearly all day and night for the last two weeks. While a majority of that time—especially the first few days after Armageddon—was spent shuttered in at one or the other’s flat, in recent days they had in fact spent a fair amount of time touring around the city’s culture and arts scene. And its five star restaurants. The angel admitted to himself that perhaps it was Crowley’s turn to choose their day’s itinerary. Within reason, of course. “Very well then,” he asked graciously, “what would you like to do this afternoon?”

Crowley seemed taken aback at the question. “Oh—well—besides the bit about the bus…eh…” he scrunched up his face and trailed off uncertainly.

Aziraphale permitted himself a small sigh. “Well, since you don’t actually have a suggestion, do you have any real objection to exploring the Tate Modern? I hear they have an excellent new Huguette Caland exhibition.”

“Oh, go on, just let me think for a moment, angel. I’ll come up with something.”

“Is this what you want our lives to be like from now on?” Aziraphale asked, exasperated. “Spending all morning bickering about what to do that afternoon—for the rest of eternity? Really, my dear, the thought of it.” He frowned, staring at the ducks swimming lazily across the pond. After a moment he glanced at Crowley, only to see the demon staring back at him with one eyebrow cocked, giving him a familiar look that was half-incredulous, half-smitten.

“What?” Aziraphale demanded.

“The rest of eternity?” Crowley enunciated, grinning.

“Oh—well, yes—” Aziraphale stammered as he turned a faint shade of pink. “About that. It’s just, I’ve been thinking and—well, I had been meaning to—to raise the subject of, of—” his voice faltered and his gaze dropped to his hands clasped delicately in his lap. Crowley waited, watching him with the same maddening grin. “It’s just that—I’ve decided to take a step back from the bookstore.”

Crowley’s bemused expression was quickly replaced by one of genuine confusion. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak Aziraphale pressed on. “I’m not selling it! I’m just hiring a manager to oversee the day-to-day,” he explained. “I was thinking it might be nice…to have some more free time.” He looked up, carefully meeting Crowley’s gaze. “And since we are no longer beholden to our respective offices—or rather, now that I don’t feel bound by—well, I was thinking we could, I don’t know, go somewhere. Take a trip, perhaps.” He hesitated. “Or even—something more permanent. We could…” his voice trailed off again.

“Move somewhere?” Crowley suggested, after watching the angel flounder for another minute.

“Well yes, something like that.” Aziraphale beamed. He took Crowley’s hand in both of his. “We could get a house! Well, it wouldn’t have to be a house, necessarily—and only if you wanted to. I would completely understand if—”

“Angel, hush.” Crowley stretched his other arm across to place a finger on Aziraphale’s lips, then reached back to rummage in his pocket. He leaned back on his elbows again and casually tossed something into the angel’s lap.

Aziraphale released his hand and picked up the set of keys, staring at them with wonder. “What’s this, Crowley?” he asked, inspecting them closely.

“House keys, obviously. Well, not a house exactly. More of a cottage. Cottage keys.” Crowley answered with the best attempt at nonchalance he could muster.

“Wha—Where?” Aziraphale choked. His eyebrows furled. “What?”

Now it was Crowley’s turn to look uncomfortable. He tensed, staring straight ahead. “Er, ‘s nothing really. Just a little cottage in the South Downs. I was in the area a few years ago on some business, happened to pass by this little place and saw it was for sale. I thought, well, stone wall, lovely big garden, outdated furnishings, Aziraphale would love it.” He attempted a sardonic smile and snuck a quick glance at Aziraphale, who was still speechless and staring at the keys. Feeling his cool demeanor evaporating, Crowley rambled on. “And I had a little extra cash ‘cause of that whole business with the Olympic dressage team, so I figured, why not? Couldn’t hurt to have. Bit of an impulse buy, to be honest.” Aziraphale was still looking down at the keys clutched in his hands. His expression was difficult to read. A heavy silence stretched between them for a long moment.

Crowley felt his stomach dropping out of his body. He stared ahead as he felt his heart pounding in his ears. He considered spontaneously bursting into flame. “ ‘s too much, isn’t it? Too fast. Too pastoral. Yeah, I figured. Forget I said anything.” He was contemplating the quickest way to extricate himself from this conversation and drink himself into oblivion when Aziraphale finally spoke.

“My dear, did you say years?” Crowley raised his eyes and saw that Aziraphale was looking back at him steadily. His expression was soft and intensely serious, and his eyes were watery.

“Well, just a couple…” Crowley admitted nervously. Aziraphale held his gaze and Crowley found that, however much he wanted to, he couldn’t look away.

“I love you, too,” Aziraphale said simply. And he leaned in and kissed Crowley with an urgency that made the demon’s head swim. Then he lay down beside Crowley and rested his head on the demon’s shoulder. Reflexively, Crowley put his arms around him and settled back to lie flat on the grass. They lay together quietly for another minute. Crowley could feel his heart rate returning to normal as his breathing slowed until it was in sync with Aziraphale’s.

The angel finally broke the silence. “Well, I think a trip to the South Downs this weekend is in order. I want to see this lovely big garden for myself. And as for the furnishings, well, I’ll be the judge of whether they’re outdated. Although I’m sure I’ll want to change them anyways when we move in; there’s simply no accounting for taste with some of these old country houses.” He turned his head to see the smile spreading across Crowley’s face. Beaming in response, he couldn’t resist the urge to tease the demon just a little. “But really, my dear,” he admonished, “considering you’d bought us this cottage ages ago, when on earth were you planning to mention it to me?”

“When you asked, obviously,” Crowley responded with a smirk. He leapt abruptly to his feet then turned to lend Aziraphale a hand up. “Now then, angel,” he declared, “let’s go see about this Ms. Caland.”


End file.
